


nowadays

by rivernyx (orphan_account)



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BUT A LITTLE FLUFF TOO, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, but more angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 17:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15562617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/rivernyx
Summary: "it's a cold," is what hongbin keeps saying these days, even when he coughs too much, too harshly, "a cold."or: in which hongbin is sick and in pain, and taekwoon tries his best to be the best boyfriend he can be.





	nowadays

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!! ldkjhsghjk this took weeks for me to write and it's my longest work so far, and im still not completely satisfied with it but!!! its ok i guess hahahah
> 
> also i think i cried a little writing this
> 
> anywAYSS i hope you enjoy!

Five unread texts. Four missed calls. Hakyeon panicking back at the dorm, Taekwoon's hands sweaty, heartbeat frantic as he bites his lip so he doesn't tell the driver to go faster for the tenth time during the drive.

He taps his nails uneasily against the screen of his phone, lips pursed as he squints outside the window into the bright streets of nighttime Seoul. He unlocks his phone again to see if Hongbin had replied.

No notifications. None. Nada. Zip.

Taekwoon breathes out through his nose and looks out the window again, eyes narrowed in concentration. There  are so many people, and Taekwoon's chest feels tight because how in the world is he supposed to distinguish Hongbin from— all this; another body lost and adrift in a sea of tens of others? Though knowing Hongbin, he's likely to be far away from the crowds. Taekwoon clenches his fists and unclenches them once more. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

His phone lights up in the darkness of the vehicle, and Taekwoon scrambles to unlock it, and through all his distress he drops it, the phone landing on the floor of the car with a dull thump. Taekwoon swears under his breath, heartbeat in his ears, sliding off the seat, trying to fit his gangly frame into the limited space of the floor. His hands scrabble under the seats— he nearly cries when he feels his hand closing around the familiar rectangular object.

“Thank God,” he whispers to himself as he returns to his former seat, quickly typing in the passcode and opening Kakao. It  _ does _ turn out to be a text from Hongbin, and the heaviness in the pit of his stomach unravels. He has to rub at his eyes and blink twice before the screen comes to focus, and when it does, he puts his phone away.

He leans closer to the driver, hand coming up to grab at the driver’s seat for support, “Turn left over there,” he says, pointing at a street that they're about to drive on, “There should be a bridge. Hongbin's there.” He can taste the desperation, heavy on his tongue, and his nails dig into the jacket he'd brought for Hongbin. He looks out the window as he waits. 

They pull over. 

Taekwoon can see Hongbin- hands folded on the fence of the bridge, leaning forward and watching the water. His fingers are clumsy as they work on the lock, taking five seconds and a lot of trial and error before he can actually unlock the door and push it open. Taekwoon does nothing short of jumping out of the car and stumbling to Hongbin's side- stumbling forward on his own two feet at one point- and he lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding until he’s facing Hongbin.

His heartbeat is much calmer now; had slowed down considerably compared to how it had been in the car, with Hongbin unresponsive to anyone's messages. His hands shake as he holds Hongbin by the shoulders before pulling him into a hug, and he can feel Hongbin's hands hovering over his waist for a moment before there are arms wrapped around Taekwoon’s waist, just as tight. 

“You scared me,” Taekwoon says, pulling back. Hongbin chuckles and slides his gaze away; goes back to staring at the river. Hongbin resumes his previous position, and Taekwoon mimics him, eyebrows furrowing as he stares at the water. He sees nothing but the full moon; not even the glittering stars, no thanks to Seoul's bright city lights. “What are you looking at?” he asks. Hongbin shrugs.

“Are you cold?” Taekwoon asks, remembering the jacket that he'd brought. 

Hongbin shakes his head, but he's pale underneath the lamp post and the moonbeams, gooseflesh prickling out of his skin. He's hugging himself too, just a little, in the subtlest of ways. Taekwoon runs back to the car and retrieves the jacket, before walking over to Hongbin and wrapping it around his shoulders. Hongbin makes a noise, something caught between a whine and a huff. Taekwoon laughs to himself softly. Hongbin wriggles into the jacket, anyway, melting into Taekwoon's touch, sighing in disappointment when Taekwoon's done.

“Don't pull a stunt like that again,” Taekwoon says. He takes Hongbin's hand and squeezes it, lips pursed. His other hand moves to clasp Hongbin's chin and tilt it upwards. Hongbin wriggles uncomfortably as he tries to look away, “You frightened us.”

Hongbin ducks his head, “I won't. I'm sorry.”

Taekwoon nods, satisfied for the meantime. He smiles at Hongbin. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he steps away for a moment. He can feel Hongbin's eyes on him, can feel them when he walks away and answers the call-- Hakyeon, greeting Taekwoon with a barrage of questions.

“He's here and safe,” Taekwoon promises. The phone line crackles, and Hakyeon quiets down considerably, though he's still muttering under his breath.

Taekwoon leans against the car. He smiles a little at Hakyeon's panic. “Yeah,” he says, glancing at Hongbin, “Yeah. We're on our way. Yeah, we’ll hurry. Bye.”

Hakyeon hangs up. Taekwoon goes back to Hongbin, who's gone back to staring at the water. He laces their fingers together, tugs slightly so Hongbin can turn to look at him. 

“Why don't we head home now?” 

Hongbin looks up, eyes wide, shaking his head. “Let's-- stay for a bit. Go to a cafe, or something.” His cheeks are pink. He untangles his fingers from Taekwoon's and rubs his cheeks. “It's the cold,” he says, looking away when Taekwoon raises an eyebrow. With finality, he adds, “The cold.”

Taekwoon raises both eyebrows now, skeptical, and Hongbin bats his shoulder lightly. He takes Taekwoon's hand anyway. Tugs him into the van.

“Now, what were you doing all alone out there?” Taekwoon asks once they're seated. He can feel Hongbin's weight against his side, can feel Hongbin's head on his shoulder. He rubs the back of Hongbin's hand with his thumb, their fingers still intertwined.

Hongbin shrugs once again.

“I don't know, just wanted some time to myself, I guess,”

“You could've at least brought a jacket,” Taekwoon points out, voice flat, and Hongbin laughs a little and uses his free hand to rub the back of his neck. “Or answered our calls.”

He's aware that he's pouting now, and he'd cross his arms over his chest if it weren't for the fact that he's far too taken by the warmth that comes with holding Hongbin's hand. Hongbin ducks his head  and mumbles out an apology and an excuse, but Taekwoon can feel him rolling his eyes.

“-Can we really go to a cafe, though?” Hongbin asks.

“Hongbin, it's,” Taekwoon squints and looks at the time indicated on the car radio, “It's eleven thirty,”

 Hongbin is silent for a few moments. 

“But what with the comeback, we've barely been able to get some alone time,”

He's looking away from Taekwoon, staring out into the streets. Taekwoon's cheeks feel warm. 

“Fine,” he says, “But if Hakyeon strangles us, it's not my fault,”

Hongbin doesn't look away from the window, but Taekwoon can see that he's beaming.

  


Taekwoon really shouldn't be surprised to be greeted by Hakyeon pacing in the dorm's living room, the skin between his eyebrows creased, his frown deep. He whirls around when he hears the door open, hands flying to his hips, “Jung Taekwoon, it's-- half past one!” he says, a hiss of a shout.

Taekwoon holds both his hands up, stepping away from the door so that Hongbin can come inside. Hakyeon immediately redirects his attention to him, lips pursed and breathing deeply.

“Where were you?” he steps closer, pulls Hongbin into a tight, tight hug. Taekwoon wriggles his toes inside his sneakers and fiddles with the hem of his shirt, feeling a bit awkward. “You idiot- we were worried sick-”

“My phone was on silent,” Hongbin says. He sounds breathless. Taekwoon bites back a chuckle. “Sorry- hyung- you're choking me, ”

Hakyeon sighs. He visibly squeezes Hongbin even tighter for a moment. His lips move, but Taekwoon is unable to catch what he'd said. Finally, Hakyeon pulls away. Hongbin heaves a mighty sigh of relief. Hakyeon bats his arm.

“Get some rest, Binnie,” he says.  He pats the back of Hongbin's shoulder, “We've got recording tomorrow. You need your rest.”

A beat.

“Thanks, Hakyeon-hyung,” Hongbin mumbles, before he shuffles away with the smallest smile on his face. He disappears into the darkness of the room beyond the doorway. Hakyeon turns to Taekwoon again, and Taekwoon raises his eyebrows in question.

“What,” Taekwoon says. Hakyeon shakes his head. 

“Nothing,” he plops down on the couch, patting the space next to him. Taekwoon sits down. “Where'd you find him?”

“By the bridge,” Taekwoon idly claps his hands on his thighs at a one-fourth beat. Hakyeon hums. Taekwoon shifts, disturbed by Hakyeon's silence. He rubs his hands against the rough fabric of his jeans and scratches at a dark stain on the cloth.

Hakyeon puts a hand around Taekwoon's wrist, removing Taekwoon's hand from his thigh and replacing it with Hakyeon's own. He squeezes it lightly before standing up.

“You know,” he says, smoothing down his shirt, Taekwoon's eyes following the movement, “You should get some rest, too.”

“I know.”

Hakyeon stretches his arms and yawns. He runs his hands through his hair and smiles at Taekwoon, eyes a little bloodshot and skin somewhat pale, not containing any of his energetic glow. “I'll be going now. Good night, Woonie.”

“Night,” Taekwoon says. He listens to Hakyeon go, his head down, eyes on his hands. He stands up a few moments later and switches off the light. Taekwoon finds himself all alone, shrouded in the darkness.

He doesn't go to his room; his feet lead him to Hongbin's, and he blinks in mild surprise when he realizes where he'd gone. Taekwoon shakes his head and knocks lightly, and he doesn't wait for a response- merely opening the door as quietly as he can and stepping inside.

The lights are still on. Hongbin's sitting on his bed, wiping his mouth. He looks up. Their eyes meet. Hongbin smiles. “Hey,”

“Hey,” Taekwoon says. He sits next to him, stealing the blanket- at which Hongbin pushes him slightly, but Taekwoon doesn't mind- and wrapping it around both their shoulders. “It's cold tonight.”

“Is that the only reason why you're here?” Hongbin asks, but he's pressing closer to Taekwoon anyway. Taekwoon bites back a grin. It's not so cold, actually- if you were to ask Taekwoon. Taekwoon actually feels- warm. Warm and sated. Stomach fuzzy.

“I guess,” Taekwoon replies, “Didn't want you to feel cold, after all.”

“Sap,” Hongbin mutters, shoving him, and Taekwoon giggles to himself as he hides his face beneath the sheets. Taekwoon can feel Hongbin rolling his eyes, but he doesn't much mind, instead just burrowing them both underneath the fluffy comforter.

He pulls the comforter over their heads and puts an arm on Hongbin's waist, pulling him a little closer- the little spoon, of course. As he always is.

“We'll suffocate,” Hongbin points out, but he doesn't complain when Taekwoon shifts even closer, face buried in Hongbin's brown locks. Taekwoon scrunches his nose a little, the strands of hair a little ticklish, and Hongbin laughs.

Taekwoon huffs and pokes Hongbin's cheek, and when Hongbin looks up, Taekwoon presses his lips on Hongbin's temple. “Go to sleep, Hongbinnie,” he whispers. Hongbin pushes his chest lightly before reaching out of the blanket-cocoon so he can turn the night light off. 

“Good night, hyung,” Hongbin says. He presses closer against Taekwoon, burrowing his face in Taekwoon's broad chest, and Taekwoon threads his fingers through Hongbin's soft locks. 

When Taekwoon wakes up, it's warm. He's on his side, facing Hongbin who's still breathing evenly, eyes closed, peaceful and beautiful, his legs tangled with Hongbin's, arm on the latter's waist. The blanket had been tossed aside somewhere, sometime in the night. Taekwoon blinks and looks at the alarm clock glaring at him from Hongbin's bedside table. Five in the morning. 

He rolls puts an arm over his eyes and yawns. Maybe he should get some more sleep; their schedule isn't until nine, anyway. He lies on  his side, closes his eyes, and waits. 

Sleep doesn't come. 

Taekwoon grunts, shifting to a different position completely. Tries again. He can feel Hongbin shifting unconsciously next to him, muttering under his breath and pulling Taekwoon closer. Taekwoon smiles to himself. He runs his fingers through Hongbin's hair again and lightly strokes his cheek.

“Get some rest, Hongbinnie,” he mumbles, peeling Hongbin off of him as gingerly as he possibly can. He gets off the bed and arranges the sheets over Hongbin, breath held and touches light. Hongbin only mumbles in disgruntlement, but Taekwoon lets out a relieved  exhale when he doesn't wake.

He glances at the window. It's still dark out, barely even dawn, and Taekwoon groans inwardly because he's going to be exhausted during recording later; he can just feel it. He keeps his footsteps as quiet as he possibly can when he tiptoes out of the room.

When he steps out into the hallway, door making a soft clicking sound when he shuts it, he squints at the sight of light emanating from the end of the hall. The kitchen.

“Huh,” he mumbles to himself. He rubs his eyes and yawns as he walks to the kitchen, joints cracking when he stretches his arms. The bright light from the room makes his eyesight a bit blurry, and he blinks to see- Hakyeon on the kitchen counter, making coffee. The cupboard is still swung open with Hakyeon making no indication that he has plans of closing it, and Taekwoon has to bite back a smile at the sight. He walks forward, making no move to keep his presence a secret. 

Hakyeon drops the spoon he's stirring with when he whips around way too quickly, eyes wide and face pale. The terror in his eyes soon fades away though, and he sighs and smiles tiredly, “Taekwoonie,” he says, sounding breathless. “It's just you.” Taekwoon quirks his lips up and chuckles, walking to stand next to Hakyeon.

“Why are you awake at this time of the day?” he asks lightly, reaching into the open cupboard to get a mug. Hakyeon shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee, and Taekwoon, from the corner of his eye, can see Hakyeon's face contort into a displeased grimace.

“I couldn't sleep,” he says once he's swallowed, face still pinched. Taekwoon takes Hakyeon's mug and drops two sugar cubes inside it as well as some creamer before pushing it back into Hakyeon's hands before the latter can even think.

Hakyeon blinks and takes a cursory sip, and Taekwoon's relieved to see that he smiles instead of frowns this time around. Hakyeon sets the mug on top of the counter, “Thanks Woonie,” he grins, staring up at him, “You do make the best coffee.”

Taekwoon rolls his eyes and puts grounds in the coffee maker, embarrassed heat prickling at his neck at the compliment, “I don't,” he mutters as he pours water and starts the machine, “It's just how you like it.”

For a few moments, only the whirring of the coffee maker and the quiet sounds of Hakyeon sipping his coffee could be heard. 

“Two cubes of sugar,” Hakyeon guesses.

Taekwoon hums, mildly impressed, “Yep,”

Hakyeon beams. “You know me so well, Taekwoonie!”

Taekwoon only rolls his eyes. The device quiets down, and he pours his coffee into the mug he'd taken previously. He turns to reach for the jar of sugar cubes, but Hakyeon's already holding it, pushing it into Taekwoon's hands as if reading his mind.

“You know me well too,” Taekwoon acknowledges with a small curl of his lips, pulling a single cube out of the jar and dropping it in the mug. He watches it dissolve and puts the jar away. Hakyeon huffs. Taekwoon looks up, sees Hakyeon crossing his arms over his chest, and he giggles. 

“Of course I do!  What do you take me for- yah, Jung Taekwoon, what are you laughing at-” Hakyeon scowls, shoving Taekwoon in the chest, and Taekwoon stumbles back, still giggling. A little bit of coffee spills on his shirt, but he doesn't quite mind. 

“Whatever,” he says, smile spreading, “Your coffee's getting cold.”

Hakyeon quickly grabs the coffee and sips, crying out and choking the beverage out when he does, and Taekwoon rolls his eyes and takes his mug away and pats his back as Hakyeon hacks and coughs. “Idiot,” he says, amused, “It's a cup of coffee, not soju.”

Hakyeon makes a face at him. Taekwoon only laughs again, before drinking from his own mug- at a slower pace than Hakyeon, of course. He doesn't want to probably die.

“What about you,” Hakyeon half-says and half-wheezes out once he's regained his breathing, bracing against the kitchen counter, “Why are _ you _ up?”

Taekwoon offers the mug back to Hakyeon, who takes it after much hesitation, “Same, really,” he said, “Woke up. Couldn't fall asleep again.”

Hakyeon hums, empathetic. Taekwoon sighs and sips. Looks up when he hears footsteps. Sees Hongbin in the doorway, wearing a shirt that's way too big on him, hair sticking out everywhere, somewhat reminiscent of a bird's nest. 

“Are you wearing my shirt?” Taekwoon teases, unable to help it. Hongbin rolls his eyes but Taekwoon can see the blush that rises on his cheeks, clear as day. He feels a little pleased at the sight of it, something inside his stomach flipping. 

“Shut up, it was the first thing I saw,” Hongbin says, head ducked. “Hey, Hakyeon-hyung.”

“Hey, yourself,” Hakyeon says. Taekwoon can't see him, but he knows Hakyeon is worried. He can tell from the way his voice is soft, delicate. “Why are you up? We still have a few hours.”

“Why are you?” is what Hongbin quips back. He grabs a glass and walks over to the water container, filling his glass to the brim before chugging it down in one go. He coughs a little bit and Taekwoon is about to rush to his side when Hongbin's standing straight up again. He's a bit too forceful when he places the glass back down, an audible thunk vibrating across the room.

“I'm going back to bed,” Hongbin announces. He smiles at both of them, and Taekwoon frowns at the bags under Hongbin's eyes.

“Sleep well,” Hakyeon says. Taekwoon nods in agreement.

“I'll be back soon,” he promises, and Hongbin hums in acknowledgement before disappearing back into the darkness of the corridor.

  


Wonshik suddenly stops the playback, and Hongbin stops singing and steps away from the microphone completely, casting an annoyed look in Wonshik’s direction. Wonshik pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales sharply.

“Again,” he snaps, starting the song over.

Taekwoon purses his lips as he watches the exchange, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater. Tension’s high in the air, as it always is when a comeback is approaching. Hongbin looks tired behind the glass with his tousled hair and the bags under his eyes. He sings again, the sound of his voice only for Wonshik to hear, and Wonshik promptly turns the music off again.

“Hongbin, please,” he slumps in his seat. Taekwoon would be lying if he said he didn’t feel him. Hongbin’s been in there for the past hour already, always singing, always stopping. He doesn’t know how bad it is, but it must be pretty off, since this he’s lost count of the times Wonshik has interrupted. “This is the last song, we’ve been recording this for over a week, you’ve got the most parts- Hongbin,  _ please _ ,”

Taekwoon can’t bring himself to say anything, eyes on his lap. Something might start, and they really can’t deal with that. He hopes it doesn’t escalate.

“What if someone sings his lines,” Jaehwan speaks up all of a sudden, and Taekwoon whips his head up so he can look at him in disbelief. Jaehwan’s got his head down, lower lip caught between his teeth, hand hovering over Sanghyuk’s hair as the youngest of them lies fast asleep with his head on Jaehwan’s lap, “We have deadlines and all- we can’t just-”

Jaehwan trails off and sighs. Taekwoon looks back at his own hands, wringing his wrists. He looks up and glances at Hongbin, who’d stepped farther away from the microphone with his hands pulling at the hem of his sweatshirt.

Wonshik’s audible sigh echoes across the room. “Maybe if the situation gets really dire,” he says, turning his attention back to Hongbin again. He presses a button. Hongbin, inside the booth, waits for his part to play before singing his lines.

Taekwoon observes with his mouth clamped shut, not wanting to be the one to spark a flame on the oils and grease keeping the clockwork of their group perfectly functional. Everyone else does the same as well. He keeps his gaze on Wonshik, who’s nodding slightly with his lips turning up in slight satisfaction, and Taekwoon exhales loudly from his mouth, tightness in his chest lightening up. Hongbin stops singing and Wonshik nods one last time and reaches over to press the same button.

“That’s good, great, better!” Wonshik says into his own microphone and Hongbin gives him a lazy thumbs up, lips moving as he says something only Wonshik can hear. He’s got a hand on his chest, and the way his chest puffs out when he breathes in and how he slightly slouches forward when he exhales when he exhales is so defined that it’s worrying Taekwoon a little bit, the latter leaning forward and ready to jump out of his seat to Hongbin’s aid if need be.

Suddenly Hongbin is stumbling back and hitting his side on the wall of the booth, hand flying from his chest to his mouth as he doubles over and coughs into his palm. Taekwoon jumps to his feet the moment he starts coughing, but Wonshik's already pushing into the booth as fast as he can, and Hakyeon puts a hand on Taekwoon's shirt and tugs, pulling the latter back on the couch. 

Hakyeon's lips are pursed, space between his eyebrows creasing as he looks on in concern. He glances up and meets Taekwoon's eyes, and he must have seen how shaken Taekwoon feels because he smiles wearily at an attempt to reassure him. Hakyeon takes Taekwoon's hand and squeezes.

Only mere seconds later, Wonshik is half leading and half carrying Hongbin out of the booth, Hongbin mostly leaning into Wonshik, his steps clumsy and disoriented. Taekwoon can hear Jaehwan ask if Hongbin is okay, but it's distant, background noise, and Taekwoon stands up so he can collect Hongbin from the rapper. 

He pulls Hongbin into his arms and Hongbin just  _ melts  _ against him, unmoving as he slumps against Taekwoon's chest. Wonshik sighs loudly. Taekwoon shakes his head, makes a little noise of distress at the back of his throat and rakes his fingers through Hongbin's hair. “Bin,” he murmurs, voice as soft as he can manage, “Love, are you alright-”

“M fine,” Hongbin insists, though his voice is somewhat heavy, like it's a burden to open his mouth and summon his voice to speak. “I'm just tired. Maybe caught a cold. I’m  _ fine _ ,”

He's pretty much boneless in Taekwoon's arms, and Taekwoon carries him all the way back to the couch. Jaehwan's stopped stroking Sanghyuk's hair, now looking on worriedly as Hongbin leans against Taekwoon's side when they're back on the couch, Taekwoon and Hongbin's fingers finding each other on pure instinct. “I think we need a break,” Hakyeon says after a short pause. Taekwoon nods in silent agreement.

“Yeah, we could use one,” Wonshik sighs, kicking himself away from the control booth with his swivel chair.

Taekwoon can hear Jaehwan and Hakyeon's soft murmurs as they try to wake Sanghyuk.  He wraps an arm around Hongbin's waist, pulling him a little closer.

“Do you want anything?” he fusses, pushing bangs away from Hongbin's face. His hair is damp, sweat gathering on his forehead, eyes half lidded. This  _ can't  _ be a common cold. Not if you ask Taekwoon.

Hongbin's Adam's Apple bobs, face twisting when he swallows. Taekwoon's eyes widen, “Does it hurt, Hongbin-”

“Water will do,” is all Hongbin says to that, and God, he's rasping it out. He's speaking like he's about to  _ lose _ his voice. Taekwoon doesn't think it'll be solved with a simple little chug of water, but he shifts around in his seat to look for one, anyway. There's a bottle, right in front of Hakyeon, and he’s just in the middle of saying, “Hakyeon, perhaps-” when Hakyeon is already reaching for it and pushing it in Taekwoon's hands.

“Thanks,” Taekwoon says, his smile sincere, and Hakyeon only nods.

  


A few hours later finds Taekwoon in the kitchen, pouring a packet of noodles into a pot of boiling water. He closes the pot once he's done pouring all the noodles and spices and ingredients inside, nodding to himself. 

It's nothing fancy, really. No complicated add-ons, no additional flavors; just ramyeon as it is, simple yet flavorful enough to cheer someone up during a cold. He leaves the noodles alone for a bit, going to the dining room to entertain himself as he waits. He pulls his phone out on the way, tapping quickly at the screen as he sets an alarm for three minutes from now before shoving it back inside his pocket.

Hakyeon looks up from watching a commercial, “Hey, Woonie,”

Taekwoon hums and sits beside him on the couch. An odd sense of deja vu overcomes him, but he shakes it off. “Hey,” he says offhandedly. The commercial- some sort of typical laundry detergent ad- ends, and some sort of cheesy drama continues where it left off. He glances at Hakyeon, eyebrows raised so high they hide behind his unkempt bangs, and he watches in mild amusement when Hakyeon's face starts to glow bright red.

“Shut up,” Hakyeon says, “I like- cheesy dramas, okay, God, you know that-”

Taekwoon laughs and leans back against the couch. He can  _ hear _ Hakyeon's frown, and he rolls his eyes. “I won't attack you for this,” Taekwoon reassures. “I'm not _ Hongbin _ ,”

“Yes but you're dating him,” Hakyeon argues, “Who knows how much he's rubbed off on you-”

The heroine- protagonist, whatever- starts confessing her undying love to her apparent romantic interest, and Hakyeon turns his attraction to the television, looking so damn  _ engrossed  _ in it that Taekwoon has to giggle to himself.

Hakyeon's head whips to glare at him, “Shh,” he hisses, “She's confessing-”

“You know, Hongbin would hate this,” Taekwoon says with a chuckle, gesturing to the television.

“Good he isn't here, then,” Hakyeon waves his hand, already back to staring intently at the TV screen, “He wouldn't be- cringing to death,”

Taekwoon snorts. He looks around, “Where are the other kids?”

Hakyeon raises an eyebrow but he doesn't look away, “The kids, huh,” he says, “What do the fans say- you, the dad? Me, the mom? Does that mean we're married, Woonie?”

Taekwoon coughs, “I'm sorry, I'm taken.”

Hakyeon hums, “True,” and suddenly the air feels tense, tight, and Taekwoon can't quite breathe as well as he used to just moments prior. The heroine on-screen screams out an, “I love you!” and Taekwoon licks his lips. 

“I think Shikkie and Hyukkie are fast asleep. Jaehwan's out with friends…”

There's a pregnant silence. Nobody dares speak for a few moments.

“And Hongbin…”

“A cold, is all,” Taekwoon says quickly. Hakyeon looks doubtful, and even Taekwoon is uncertain as to whether he believes it himself. He sighs.

His phone buzzes. Three minutes now. He smiles at Hakyeon before going back to the kitchen to get the food he'd made, and heading straight to Hongbin's room. 

He knocks twice when he gets there, slow and tentative, and when Hongbin doesn't reply he balances the food tray on one hand and twists the knob, stepping inside slowly. He closes the door behind him as quietly as he can.

Taekwoon smiles when his and Hongbin's eyes meet, “Hey,”

“You'll catch the cold too,” is how Hongbin greets him, wrapped around blankets and comforters. Taekwoon rolls his eyes and sits beside him with a food tray in his hands. Steaming hot ramyeon and a glass of water. He places the tray on Hongbin's bedside table.

“You need to eat,” he says, frowning, “You're sick, aren't you? You need your nutrition.” He reaches over for the bowl, wincing slightly when the heat stings his palm, and carefully drags a nearby chair over with his feet before putting the bowl of noodles on top of it.

“Ramyeon. My idea of a nutritious meal,” Hongbin says in a dry voice, narrowly ducking out of the smack that comes his way, “Stop spending so much time with Hakyeon!” he cries out. Taekwoon only rolls his eyes and brings the bowl up to hold it close to Hongbin’s mouth, grabbing some of the noodles with a pair of chopsticks.

“Open wide,” Taekwoon requests softly.

Hongbin huffs, muttering “I’m not a child,” under his breath but parting his mouth anyway. His lips close over the pair of chopsticks, the food, and he smiles around the utensils. Taekwoon feels a smile of his own tug at the corners of his lips.

“Cute,” Taekwoon coos. Hongbin reddens and swallows, running a hand through his hair.

Rinse and repeat. They stay there for a few more odd minutes, silent for the most part, Hongbin with his precious, worn blanket wrapped around his shoulders as Taekwoon stubbornly keeps feeding him. It’s peaceful, and it’s quiet, and Taekwoon relishes it. He relishes the accidental brushing of their skin, relishes the pinkness of Hongbin’s cheeks, his small smiles and the dimples popping out. In moments like these, it’s like they’d gone back to when they’d first started dating. Shy, quiet, yet basking in every tiny moment.

The little pinging sound when the chopstick hits the porcelain alerts Taekwoon that the bowl is empty now, and he sets it back on the chair before handing Hongbin the glass of water. Hongbin’s hands rest over Taekwoon’s when he takes it, licking his lips and downing the glass in one go.

Taekwoon puts the glass back on the tray and kisses Hongbin’s forehead, standing up to leave.

A hand tugs on his shirt.

Taekwoon blinks and turns back around, “I’ll just clean this up, and I’ll be right back,”

“I’ll clean it up later,” Hongbin says. He shifts so he’s on the other side of the bed completely, giving Taekwoon more space to lie down, and Taekwoon smiles and shakes his head but lies next to him anyway, pulling the covers over their waists. It’s warm, and Hongbin’s body fits perfectly against Taekwoon’s front, snug as he curls into Taekwoon’s chest.

  


Taekwoon wakes up a few hours later facing away from Hongbin. He shifts, eyes heavy, still far from fully awake. Faintly, in the recesses of his mind, he registers that Hongbin isn’t lying next to him anymore, but his warmth is still there, and the bed is still heavy from another body.

He’s already drifting off again when he hears Hongbin clear his throat. He dismisses it as the cold, breathing in and trying to relax again.

Then Hongbin starts coughing.

Taekwoon purses his lips and clamps his eyes shut as he listens to Hongbin coughing. It sounds dry, nasty, the latter’s weight shifting on the bed as he attempts to control the way he hacks into his closed fist, and Taekwoon digs his nails into his skin, chest squeezing at the sounds.

Something lands on his arm. Light, soft, wet with- something Taekwoon doesn’t know.

He feels the brush of Hongbin’s skin on his arm and tries not to tense. The object is removed. Hongbin heaves a heavy sigh. His weight lifts off of the bed, and Taekwoon can hear the shuffling of his footsteps and the door being opened and closed.

He bites his lip and tries to calm down.

He’ll ask Hongbin about it tomorrow.

The door opens and closes again, and Hongbin crawls back in bed with him.

“Where’d you go,” Taekwoon asks, voice laced with faux grogginess.

Hongbin stills, “I just cleaned the tray up,” he says slowly, “Let’s go back to sleep, yeah?”

  


The bed is cold when Taekwoon wakes up.

It’s been made, extra pillow tucked under his arms for comfort, blanket over his shoulders. He sits up and puts the blanket aside, making the bed once again and padding outside barefoot to join the others. He grabs his phone before leaving the room, disconnecting it from its charger and stuffing the device inside his pocket.

Jaehwan, Sanghyuk and Wonshik are all at the breakfast bar, Wonshik cooing over Jaehwan who’s busy going between scooping more cereal into his mouth and telling a joke to the two younger boys. Sanghyuk sits with his arms folded on top of the counter, leaning forward a little bit. Then Jaehwan looks up, and around a whole mouthful of Special K, he shouts, “Hey, Woonie-hyung!”

Taekwoon waves back with a small smile, and Wonshik drones out a lazily enunciated, “Morning,” accompanied by Sanghyuk’s little salute. He walks to stand across the three of them, palms pressed flat on top of the bar, “Where’s Hongbin? And uh,”

“Groceries,” Sanghyuk replies with a piece of toast in his mouth. Taekwoon nods at that and grabs a piece of slightly burnt toast from the breakfast bar, making his way to the coffee machine.

“No need, hyung,” Wonshik speaks up. He points to a mug on top of the kitchen counter, and Taekwoon nods again. He brings it to his lips and sips, smiling slightly. It isn’t  _ hot _ , not like freshly brewed coffee, but it hasn’t quite reached lukewarm just yet.  And the taste sits pleasantly on his tongue, the blend just right. Perfect.

“Did Hakyeon make this?” he asks, setting the mug down.

Jaehwan stops talking and three sets of eyes blink up at him, confused, amused, and inquisitive. Suddenly Taekwoon feels the need to duck his head, heat crawling up his cheeks as he scratches the back of his neck.

“...No,” Jaehwan says, eyebrows furrowed together, “Hongbin did. Like he usually does if you wake up late?”

“Oh,” Taekwoon says to himself, only for himself to hear, “Oh, of course,”

“You know, for someone who hates coffee and is an absolute wreck in the kitchen, he sure makes good coffee,” Sanghyuk comments.

“Hakyeon-hyung, too,”

“It’s that Wednesday 3:30 PM, let me tell you,”

They dissolve into insignificant conversation and Taekwoon tunes them out and stares down at the mug of coffee in his hand. He takes another sip, Jaehwan, Wonshik, and Sanghyuk’s voices merely background noise as he mulls over his thoughts. He sighs and drinks it down. Grimaces when the beverage feels cool on his tongue.  Almost robotically, Taekwoon turns to the sink and turns it on, putting the mug under running tap, watches as the water slowly turns from brown to clear as it fills up and spills out of the mug, into the sink.

As if on cue, the door slams open and shut again, heavy footsteps thumping on the floor. Sanghyuk says, “Hey, Hongbin-hyung!” and only receives a breathless, “Hey,” in response, and Taekwoon turns around to greet Hongbin, only to see that he’s already disappearing into the corridor without another word.

Jaehwan blinks, “Think something happened?”

Taekwoon tunes them out again and races out of the kitchen to chase after Hongbin. The door’s closed by the time he gets there, and the knob rattles when he twists it, unturning. Taekwoon grimaces and knocks on the door with his other hand, “Binnie?”

There’s a cough from inside, and something in Taekwoon’s gut twists. He digs his nails into the side of his thigh and inhales deeply, knocking again, “Hongbin. Bin. You alright?”

There’s a breathy chuckle from the other side. “I’m fine, hyung,” he says, his voice all dry and raspy. Taekwoon purses his lips, his grip around the knob tightening, “It’s just the cold, I swear- I’ll be well soon,”

“You don’t sound well,” Taekwoon argues.

“Yes, but I  _ will _ ,” Hongbin laughs again from behind the door, “Cold, remember?” there’s shuffling, footsteps on the carpet.

Taekwoon sighs, “But why can’t I come in?”

“Because you’ll catch what I have,”

“That didn’t-” he starts, before trailing off, kicking an imaginary rock in front of his foot. He leans against the door and slams the side of his head against it lightly. His stomach feels heavy, like his heart had turned to stone and decided to bury itself in his abdomen. “Fine,” he mutters, the single word difficult to utter. He stands there for a moment, neither of them speaking, and it’s when he hears the distant pitter-patter of raindrops that he remembers, “Where’s Hakyeon?”

Hongbin doesn’t answer for a moment and Taekwoon feels something inside his chest tighten, but at that moment he hears his phone ring-- a call from Hakyeon, custom ringtone and everything. He swipes at the screen.

_ “Taekwoonie?” _

“I was just gonna ask about you,” Taekwoon says. He takes a final glance at Hongbin’s room, frowning and trying to open the door one last time, but to no avail. Taekwoon shakes his head and walks off, making his way to the living room, phone pinned between his head and shoulder, “Did something happen between you and Hongbin?”

A pause; static crackle from the other side,  _ “I don’t know; he just ran off. Left me with so many groceries,” _

Taekwoon represses the physical urge to sigh again, choosing instead to smile slightly at the obvious annoyance in Hakyeon’s voice, “Do you need me to help?”

“Yes please,”

Taekwoon sends one final glance in the direction of Hongbin’s room, before shaking the iffy feeling off of him. He walks past the three still sitting at the breakfast bar, mumbling a hurried goodbye, grabbing a lonely umbrella sitting at the corner of the room. The pitter-patters have only grown louder.

  


“You brought an umbrella, God, thank you,” is how Hakyeon greets him. He’s standing outside the grocery store, bags on the cement, back pressed against the grocery’s exterior as he tries to avoid the slowly growing puddle before his feet. Taekwoon shrugs and crouches, hand extending towards a plastic bag to pick it up, but Hakyeon’s reaching for it at the same time and their fingers are brushing together. Hakyeon laughs awkwardly and withdraws his hand, “I’ll… take this other one,”

“Yeah,” Taekwoon fumbles a bit, balancing between holding the umbrella up to protect them from the rain and trying to grab the plastic bag. His hand closes around the handle, and he stands up straight again, nodding at Hakyeon, who steps under the umbrella next to him, grimacing at the pouring rain.

“What a gentleman,” Hakyeon teases, his voice light, and Taekwoon laughs as the knots in his shoulders and stomach slowly unravel. The dorm isn’t too far off, just a couple of block away, but the rain’s hard enough to make Hakyeon yelp and press closer to Taekwoon, eyebrows scrunched, complaining under his breath about getting wet.

“The umbrella’s too small to fit us,” he’s saying, his lips downturned. He wipes his wet cheek with his free hand, wincing when the water only retaliates by spreading farther across his skin. Taekwoon doesn’t think.

He hands Hakyeon the plastic bag he’s holding, so fast that the latter is stunned when he takes it, and proceeds to pull Hakyeon even closer, shielding his face a little more from the evil raindrops, “Better now?”

Hakyeon’s only a little smaller than Hongbin is, only a little leaner, and he’s warm and snug underneath Taekwoon’s arm. He-  _ fits. _ Not as well as Hongbin does, but well enough that it’s comfortable, that it’s almost like  _ home _ . 

Taekwoon’s cheeks are warm. Why are his cheeks so warm? He inwardly scoffs at himself, purses his lips.

“I’m still getting hit,” Hakyeon complains, “Why’s your umbrella so  _ small _ , anyway?”

“I just grabbed the first one I saw,” Taekwoon defends, lower lip jutting out, “Stop complaining. There’s an umbrella and it doesn’t matter,”

Hakyeon laughs at this, and the sound of it makes Taekwoon’s nerves tingle. He shakes his head, his grip around the umbrella handle tightening. His hand is damp and he has no idea whether it’s because of the rain or cold sweat. 

“My phone is ringing, hold on,” Hakyeon says, handing one bag of groceries to Taekwoon, which he begrudgingly takes. Their hands touch for a moment, the slightest brush of skin, and Taekwoon bites his lip and quickly pulls his hand and the plastic bag away. Hakyeon digs into his pocket, licking his lips as he presses closer to Taekwoon because of the rain, swiping at the screen before bringing his phone close to his ear.

“Hello?” he starts, “Jaehwannie, hey, what-”

Taekwoon glances at him, watches Hakyeon’s face fall as he trails off and continues listening. Taekwoon watches Hakyeon purse his lips and nod urgency, watches Hakyeon jam the device back in his pocket. Taekwoon swallows, feeling anxiety build up in the pit of his stomach.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, walking a little faster on instinct. His stomach flips, but not pleasantly.

Hakyeon shakes his head, “Let’s just, let’s hurry-” he says instead, grabbing Taekwoon by the wrist and running. Taekwoon yelps in surprise, umbrella falling out of his hand, but Hakyeon pays it no mind as he runs even faster, Taekwoon stumbling as he tries to catch up. They run past the streets, getting wet and drenched, but the urgency Hakyeon is feeling has seeped into Taekwoon and he stops caring about the raindrops pelting him, because something is obviously wrong. Hakyeon tugs him along, and when they get to the building, Hakyeon’s foot taps impatiently on the floor as they wait for the elevator to come.

Finally, the elevator dings and the doors slide open, and Hakyeon pulls Taekwoon inside with such ferocity that he ends up stumbling in, tripping over his own feet and ending up boxing Hakyeon between him and the elevator wall.

Taekwoon flinches and staggers away, pressing the button for their floor.

There’s a growing puddle beneath their feet, a reminder of how much time is being wasted, and Hakyeon swears and mutters that they should have used the stairs instead. When their finally on their floor, Hakyeon once again grabs Taekwoon by the hand and runs to their unit.

He presses the doorbell.

It’s not even five seconds later that Jaehwan answers the door, his eyes wide, face pals. “You’re finally here,” he says breathlessly, and Taekwoon’s about to ask what’s wrong when he hears someone banging on a door and the unmistakable sound of coughing.

Loud, loud coughing.

Taekwoon bolts, throwing the bag of groceries somewhere insignificant. He runs straight to Hongbin’s room, still locked, Sanghyuk frantically hitting the side of his closed fist against it. Wonshik’s fruitlessly trying to twist the doorknob, before turning to see Taekwoon, eyes wide and hair mussed. “It’s been- he hasn’t stopped,” he says, voice small, hands shaking, “He won’t let us come in, hyung, I’m-”

A loud bang, courtesy of Sanghyuk, interrupts Wonshik mid-sentence. “Hongbin-hyung!” he yells over the coughing, “Hyung, let us in!”

Time seems to stop.

Taekwoon taps Sanghyuk, who nods and makes way, lip bitten. He knocks on the door with shaking hands, stomach tight with discomfort, sweat and rain rolling down his forehead, “Hongbin, Binnie, it’s hyung, can I come in?” He swallows, breathing deeply, clutching the knob so tightly his hands are pale in an attempt to hold himself together. He knocks again, “Binnie?”

“..Not yet,”

Taekwoon’s breath catches in his throat, and his teeth dig deeper into his lower lip. He cringes at the thick, coppery taste of iron on his tongue. Hongbin’s voice- it’s so raspy, so rough, like he hasn’t drank water in days, like his voice is slowly dwindling away. From the other side of the door, there’s a choking noise, and Taekwoon knocks again.

“Hold on,”

Hakyeon and Jaehwan come to join them, and Taekwoon wrings his wrists to stop his hands from shaking. His knees feel like jelly, unstable and weak and so close to buckling. He swallows, and he leans against the door, trying to catch his breath.

He hears the familiar click of a lock and he immediately twists the knob and pushes the door open, looking at Hongbin to see-

Glassy eyes, a weak smile, a dribble of blood rolling down his chin and tiny grains of red splattered around his mouth and smudged on his cheek.

“Hyung,” he rasps, before he collapses into Taekwoon’s arms.

  


“He’ll be alright,” Hakyeon mumbles as he rubs Taekwoon’s back, trying to be as comforting as possible in a situation like this. Taekwoon feels another tear roll down his cheek, and he squeezes his eyes shut and lets Hakyeon embrace him, letting the smooth timbre of his voice wash over him, soothe him just a little bit, even if he doesn’t quite believe Hakyeon’s words, “He’ll be alright, Woonie.”

Hakyeon shifts a little bit, then pats Taekwoon’s shoulder, “I need to talk to the doctor,” he says, his voice soft, “I’ll be right back,”

Taekwoon doesn’t move as Hakyeon leaves, just sits there and waits, gazing at nothing at all. He doesn’t know how long it takes before Hakyeon’s warmth envelops him again, taking his hand and squeezing it lightly.

“What’s wrong with him?” Taekwoon asks, voice hoarse from crying. Hakyeon rubs the back of Taekwoon’s palm with his thumb.

“The doctors think it might be bronchitis,” he murmurs, and Taekwoon laughs bitterly. Hakyeon frowns and pats his hand, “He’ll be okay, Woonie. He should get discharged soon.”

Taekwoon breathes and closes his eyes again.

  


He doesn’t even realize that he’s dozed off, but when he comes to on the chairs in Hongbin’s hospital room, Hakyeon nudging him gently and trying to get his head off his shoulder, it’s already seven in the evening. “Wonshik and Jaehwan brought dinner,” Hakyeon says softly, turning his head in the direction of Hongbin’s bedside table, where three boxes of takeout Chinese are lying in wait, “The three are home for tonight. Do you want to stay here?”

“What about Hongbin?” Taekwoon asks, sitting up straight and rubbing his eyes, trying to clear his head. Hakyeon sighs.

“He was awake some time ago. Then he slept again,” Hakyeon looks at Hongbin, fast asleep on the bed, silent and peaceful and beautiful, “He must be really fatigued…”

Taekwoon feels a little bit of his heart break. He breathes, “I think I’ll stay here,” he mumbles, “Go home. The kids need someone to take care of them.”

“Of course,” Hakyeon says, standing up and petting Taekwoon’s hair, “I’ll be here in the morning.” He smiles again, goes over to the bed to softly press his two fingers to his face and then Hongbin’s cheek, and heads out the door with his own plastic bag of takeout.

Taekwoon brings the chair next to Hongbin’s bed, reaching over for his own dinner, and he hasn’t even opened it yet when he hears Hongbin let out a tired grunt, shifting in his place on the bed. Hongbin grumbles nonsense under his breath and sits up, looking groggily from one side to another.

“Morning,” Taekwoon says, and Hongbin turns to look at him, smiling lopsidedly. A lone dimple pops out.

“Hyung,” he says, his voice still gravelly. He blinks and yawns, and Taekwoon hands Hongbin his dinner, which Hongbin gracefully accepts and not-so-gracefully digs into.

Dinner is quiet, both of them far too hungry to really say anything, and when it’s over and the paper boxes are all crushed and disposed of, Taekwoon says, “I was scared. And worried. We all were.” His words echo in the sober emptiness that all hospital rooms seem to have.

Hongbin smiles tightly, “Sorry, hyung,”

Taekwoon takes his hand and squeezes it, “When you get discharged and get better, we should go out,” he suggests, shifting closer to the bed, “I- we haven’t gone out in a while. Not really,”

Hongbin squeezes in return.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “Yeah. We should,”

  


Hongbin’s discharged two days later, with a set of instructions from the doctor and a prescription. Taekwoon hugs him as tightly as he can when he’s back, and they celebrate and everything. They eat out and pig out and have fun at a noraebang, and Taekwoon doesn’t think they’ve hung out together and unwound like this in ages, not with the stress of the comeback and everything.

He leans against Hongbin and claps his hands like a supportive boyfriend, grinning and cheering him on as he sings. Then Hongbin thrusts the microphone at him during the instrumental break, and Taekwoon blinks at him for a stunned moment before taking it.

 “Ooh, boyfriend duet!” Jaehwan laughs, slapping his thighs enthusiastically, “Let’s go!” and Taekwoon’s cheeks flare up when he starts singing, a wide smile spreading across his face. There comes a point where Hongbin starts singing along next to him, the low and high timbres of their voices blending in perfect harmony, but Taekwoon catches a glance of Hakyeon singing on his own without a microphone, and the AC suddenly feels so much colder.

  


It's three in the afternoon on their next day off.

Taekwoon doesn't know how to feel about it,   _ it  _ being his and Hongbin's fingers interlaced as Hongbin tugs him through the many hallways and rooms of the place in which he came from, that is, an art museum, half of the exhibits of which he can't even understand, since Hongbin is rarely ever this affectionate, and there's just something very…  _ off _ about this date. He can't put a finger on it- or perhaps he can. Perhaps he can and he just doesn't want to.

He shakes his head and pushes that particular thought away, moving to turn to Hongbin who's just started to talk. “You have that one demo, don't you?” Hongbin is saying, stopping to admire a certain piece. He's smiling, and Taekwoon's heart skips a beat for a moment because he hasn't seem Hongbin smile lately. Hongbin turns to look at him, his grin wide, and he pulls Taekwoon closer. “What was it- Touch and Sketch? Maybe this will inspire you?”

Taekwoon smiles back, just unable to resist, heart feeling soft when he hears Hongbin speak. “You can be really fucking sweet, you know,” Taekwoon says, a laugh bordering on the edges of his voice, and Hongbin rolls his eyes. There's a flush rising up his cheeks and Taekwoon stares up at the painting.

“What do you think this means?” he asks, frowning in thought as he tries to comprehend the artwork. Hongbin squints for a moment, and Taekwoon glances to see him completely absorbed by the piece, attempting to break it down. 

“I, for one, think the artist is trying to tell us something about changing from his past self to his present self,” Taekwoon says, and Hongbin's eyebrows raise at him and he shakes his head. 

“That's not it,” Hongbin says, tugging Taekwoon away from the painting, and Taekwoon smiles as he listens to Hongbin rattle on and on about what  _ he  _ thinks the painting means, before they stop before a painting of nothing but splashes of color and something that looks vaguely like a bouquet of flowers. Chrysanthemums. Red, yellow, white.

Hongbin stills and trails off, and his hand tightens around Taekwoon's.

Taekwoon blinks and looks at him, only to see Hongbin staring at the painting with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, eyebrows furrowed. He tugs a little, and Hongbin's head snaps up to look at him. He laughs sheepishly. “Sorry. Lost myself for a moment there,”

“Why, did you think up some crazy theory?” Taekwoon asks, grinning as he tries to dispel the sudden somber atmosphere that has spread  across them. Hongbin laughs again.

“I'd think the painter's gotten his heart broken,” he says, stepping back and scrutinizing the piece. Taekwoon raises an eyebrows.

“The colors are all over the place,” Hongbin says, voice small. He reaches forward, trying to reach for the painting, but closes his fist halfway and putting his hand back to his side. “It's chaotic. And see those flowers?”

Taekwoon blinks and nods, stomach flipping. He licks his lips and looks at the painting.

“Red chrysanthemums are a symbol of love. Yellow for neglected love and sorrow. White for loyalty and devotion,”

Taekwoon purses his lips, his heart clenching. Hongbin leans against Taekwoon's side with a small sigh, “Put it together- whoever made it has had their heart broken, but they haven't lost hope in whoever it is, yet.”

Taekwoon swallows. “That sounds… like it hurts,”

Hongbin laughs, “No shit,” and Taekwoon doesn't know why the feeling in his gut worsens but it  _ does _ .

“Why do you know all of this though?” Taekwoon chuckles, and Hongbin shrugs, a small smile of his own working on his lips.

“I was a bitter single for a while. Give me some credit,” he grins, “Come on, the museum is almost closing,”

Taekwoon glances at the clock on the wall and sees that they still have a few hours, but he doesn't mention it.

  


They sit quietly in the backseat of the cab as they're being driven, Hongbin yawning as he leans his head on Taekwoon's shoulder, Taekwoon smiling and threading his fingers through Hongbin's hair. He closes his eyes and leans back against Hongbin, letting Park Hyoshin's voice from their shared earbuds lull him to sleep.

It still feels off, still feels different, still feels like it lacks something he can't quite name-  _ it lacks the frantic beating of his heart and the butterflies in his stomach _ \- but it's warm and familiar and for now, that's enough.

He wakes up when the cab comes to a complete stop, Hongbin tapping him awake. They quickly thank the driver and collect the picnic basket from the trunk, waving at the back of the taxi as it drives away. 

Hongbin takes his shoes off and runs, arms spread wide and laughter ringing. “Hurry, hyung!” he calls, his grin shining underneath the moonlight when he turns his head, dimples out. Nobody's there to hear them, not when it's this late into the night, and Taekwoon grins and runs after him, shoes off and sand cool beneath his feet.

By the time he catches up, Hongbin has already spread their mat across the sand, staring at the ocean, waves shimmering and glittering in the night. Taekwoon puts the basket down.

“Our first date was at a beach too, wasn't it?” Hongbin asks lightly, and Taekwoon nods. Hongbin's hands find his, he looks at the rippling reflection of the moon. “I got so far out and I got really scared,”

“And I had to carry you back to the shore,” Taekwoon smiles at the memory, the tips of his fingers tingling when he closes his eyes. There's something else too, something heavy weighing at the pit of his stomach.

“Then there was a shooting star,” Hongbin says. He flinches and then coughs, and Taekwoon steadies him and helps him up and pats his back, “Then,” Hongbin says with a wince and a hoarse voice that leaves Taekwoon's stomach tight, “Then there was a shooting star.”

“We should have gotten your medicine,” Taekwoon mutters, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He's about to bend down to pick up some water, but Hongbin stops him and shakes his head.

“No, no need, it doesn't matter,” he insists, “Carry on. What happened after?”

Taekwoon sends a concerned glance in the direction of the opened picnic basket and the water bottles inside, but he gives in to Hongbin's pleading gaze, “Then we asked each other about our wishes.”

“Then you kissed me,” Hongbin flashes a grin, “Then I kissed  _ you, _ ”

“That,” Taekwoon says, face warm. A cold breeze brushes the both of them. He shivers.

“Want to go for a dip?”

Taekwoon blinks, “Hongbin, it's fucking cold.”

“No, come on,” Hongbin grins, but when Taekwoon looks at it he can see that it's wavering at the edges, “Please. Let's make the best out of today.”

Taekwoon squeezes Hongbin's hand, and  Hongbin squeezes back. Taekwoon looks at the sea, because he can't bear to see that smile, “Yeah, sure,”

So they run to the sea, and Hongbin going in the water unbothered. Taekwoon gapes and pokes his big toe in the water, before stepping in for real. He stumbles back and falls on his ass when he feels the splash of freezing water on his skin, his clothes-

“You lured me in here just to,” he starts, outraged, and Hongbin throws his head back and laughs, and he looks beautiful, so fucking beautiful, so why doesn't Taekwoon feel his skin tingling, why doesn't Taekwoon feel the familiar rush of-

Of-

He gets on his feet and splashes water onto Hongbin in vengeance, and Hongbin yelps before splashing back, and it turns into a childish war of sorts, their clothes soaked and their hair wet and their bellies aching from laughter.

Then Hongbin steps closer to Taekwoon and stands on his tiptoes and kisses him. 

Before splashing him even more.

Fifteen minutes later their walking by the shore, shivering despite having changed their clothes, taking bites out of the homemade sandwiches in their shaking hands. The sand sparkles, and it's soft, singing beneath their feet. Taekwoon puts an arm around Hongbin's shoulder. He feels like someone else. 

Taekwoon swallows some of his food.

Hongbin stops suddenly, and Taekwoon does too, looking at him in question. Hongbin opens his mouth to say something, but he's suddenly falling to his knees with his hand on his mouth, coughing and hacking and choking on air. Taekwoon acts quick, dropping down so they're on the same level, frantically rubbing and patting his back. “Hongbin,” he says, “ _ Hongbin _ ,” and his hands clench around Hongbin's shirt when Hongbin only flinches, bending over and coughing even more. 

Cold sweat gathers on Taekwoon's skin as he tries his best to help, even when his hands are shaking as he holds Hongbin, trying to get him to stop coughing,  _ godfuckingdammit. _

Blood splatters down on the sand, thick red drops, and Taekwoon's hands shake even more. He  _ can't move,  _ lungs and heart momentarily stopping because Hongbin. Blood. Coughing.

“Hongbinnie?” he asks, voice small and breaking at the last syllable. Another drop of blood rolls down, sliding out of the gap between Hongbin's fingers, down his arm. “Hongbin. It's- why is it this bad, it isn't supposed to be _ this _ bad.”

Hongbin coughs even more, clenching his fist and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His cheek gets smudged. Taekwoon pulls him up by the shoulders, and Hongbin stumbles a little, fist still clenched. He shakes as he turns to Taekwoon, still shaking when he buries his face in Taekwoon's chest.

“Hongbin,” Taekwoon tries again, voice firmer this time, though it's still all wobbly and faint, “Hongbin. What's going on?”

Hongbin pulls back and opens his downturned fist, and small, bloody petals cascade from his hand. Red, yellow, white. Chrysanthemums.

Taekwoon _laughs_ , but it isn't happy at all. He steps back, unable to look away from the petals- and a few _whole_ flowers, and chunks of- chunks of _flesh_ sitting on the sand, and when his laughter fades away, when he runs out of breath, he stares at Hongbin with wide eyes. “This is a joke, right? You shouldn't eat flowers, Hongbin- it's not- it's dirty,”

“Hyung,” Hongbin says. Taekwoon puts his hand up.

“No, shut the fuck up. Hanahaki is a myth, Hongbin. It's not- you're not- it's not real,” but the more he speaks the less he believes it, and the more he stares at the- the  _ things _ on the floor the more lightheaded he becomes.

“Hyung,”

Taekwoon feels the first tear roll down his cheek. And another. And then another. It's warm on his cheeks, and he gathers Hongbin in his arms. He hugs him tight, eyes clenched shut, and he asks, “Who is it?”

He knows, though, he knows, he knows, he  _ knows _ , and everything gets even worse when all Hongbin has to offer in reply is mirthless laughter. Taekwoon's shirt feels damp. Taekwoon hugs him tighter for a moment before pulling away, keeping his hands on Hongbin's shoulders. “You need. You need to get surgery. You need to tell them- Hongbin,”

Hongbin's hands are shaking as he pulls Taekwoon's hands off his shoulders. His eyes are glassy, cheeks wet, more tears running down his face.

 “I'm selfish, hyung,” he murmurs, “I'm selfish. I don't. Want to,”

“Hongbin,”

“I just want to pretend a while longer,” Hongbin says, “I want to pretend. Can't we just please pretend?” his hands drop to his sides and he looks up, meets Taekwoon's eyes, and Taekwoon can see it. All of it. The desperation, the pain, the love and the longing.

“We can't, Hongbin, we can't,” Taekwoon digs his fingers into his palm, “We can't. I'm sorry.”

Hongbin looks down.

“We need to break up,” Taekwoon says with a sense of finality, and his own words break his heart, “We need- we need to stop this, Hongbin, please.”

He holds Hongbin's hands and lifts them, “It's for you and for me,” is all he needs to say, before Hongbin unravels completely once again and buries his face in Taekwoon's chest once again and sobs, nothing but the stars, sand, sea and Taekwoon to hear his cries.

Taekwoon cries too, his grasp tight as he holds Hongbin close.

  


Taekwoon wakes up in the middle of the night three weeks later. 

He blinks at the ceiling, trying to adjust to the darkness. He's alone, and the bed is cold.

And his phone is on, screen is glowing in the darkness of his bedroom. He reaches for it. Sees it's a voicemail from Hongbin. With shaking fingers, he plays it. 

  


_ There's a crackle. The sound of the wind as it rushes past the speaker. _

_ “Hey, hyung,” _

_ Background noise: more wind. Cars zooming past. The loud revving of motorcycle engines.  _

_ “I. I'm selfish. I've told you that. I'm selfish and I can't,” _

_ Hongbin hiccups. _

_ “They say drowning is the most painful way to die,” he mumbles faintly into the speakers, “But I don't think it'll hurt as much- as this. As loving you,” _

_ Hongbin for a moment, laughs. It's humorless, though, and he goes quiet for a moment. _

_ “Hey, hyung, I love you,” Hongbin's voice is soft, way too soft, “I'm sorry,” _

_ The call ends with another crackle. _

  


**Author's Note:**

> "on my way back from leaving you  
> i'll forget you, i'll erase you, my burnt blackened love,"  
> -tried to walk (b1a4)
> 
> oof so hi,, ahahahha.... i hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> just a post note, though, in case you haven't noticed, but towards the end it's mostly hongbin who starts the interactions between them... ahahahh...
> 
> i hope you enjoyed it! feel free to leave a comment bc they feed my soul, even if it's just to express your hate towards me...
> 
> aight, that's all, love tall, nyx out!


End file.
